


Ten Things Thomas Learned

by orphan_account



Series: Things They Learn [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9036164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Thomas hated Hamilton, that much he was sure. As he learned more about the man though, he found it harder to do so. Maybe, just maybe he could feel something besides hate or sadness?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [exadorlion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exadorlion/gifts).



> Second fic and this one will be much longer, god help me.

**1.) Hamilton wore glasses.**  
Thomas had never worn his glasses to work, nor would he if he ever had a say in it. He would deal with the watery and often itchy eyes this contacts gave him any day over his glasses. That wasn't to say he hated his glasses quite the contrary was true. He loved his glasses. The thick framed, squared shaped, beauties he wore were one of his favorite things about coming home. There was nothing he loved more about coming home than taking his contacts out and sliding his glasses on to go read a good book.

Of course before Martha died that had been his second favorite thing. That had changed though, seven months, one week, three days, and twelve hours ago, it had changed. The doctors had said her sickness from before her pregnancy had lasted and in the end it had been too much. Neither her or the baby had made it. He had seen his daughter be born and wither right before his eyes. She'd been only two weeks old before her heart gave out on her. Martha, sweet, beautiful, Martha had passed two days earlier. After three weeks he'd finally dragged himself out of his depression and forced himself back to work. The first two months had passed in a blur but eventually he made himself go back to what had been normal. 

Still through all that time he had a few people to be grateful for. James, the poor man, had practically moved in with him for awhile to help him through the beginning. He never quite understood how valuable a friend he was until then, and now, well now he knew if he ever needed help James was the one to contact. Then there was his assistant, Sally, who despite all the scandals she had gone through with him she treated him just the same as she always had. She still snipped and snarked at him, not to mention she still forced him to eat with her every other day at work. Lastly there was the least likely person to be thankful for, Hamilton. After two weeks of relative silence between them it seemed as though he couldn't take it anymore and attack him with renewed vigor. They had gone back to making their workplace a veritable war zone, no one was safe. And, so what if he used that as a way to vent some of his anger at Martha's passing? No one noticed he did that so he was safe. 

That being said he still hated his contacts with a burning passion. This passion was only matched with his hate for several other things chief among which was Hamilton's complete inability to keep things concise for convenience. This was proven by the fifty page document he had in front of him. Now normally, this would not be a problem save for the fact that this join proposal between them was due in a week and this was only the first draft that Hamilton had sent him. (The man said it was his fortieth draft overall however.) He was going to murder Hamilton, brutally if he had any choice. Sure, the first deadline was due in a week, the outline, not the whole paper. 

With a sigh he stacked the papers neatly and rubbed at his eyes irritably. He opened his drawer to his desk, and looked at the assortment of pens he had. He picked up one with a slight smirk and shut the drawer. Hamilton would have his edits, but he would have them in glittery magenta ink. With a half amused, half annoyed, eye roll he began the arduous task of editing the paper in front of them. 

Three hours later he looked up when someone entered, not bothering to knock first. He slowly drug his eyes up and was met with a green shirt, Hamilton. Still going slowly his eyes slid up to meet the others. When he came to his face and froze, unbelieving. His brains might have quite literally short circuited and he wasn't over exaggerating this time. On Hamilton's face was perched a pair of wire framed, thin glasses. He immediately began to compare his glasses with Hamilton's. Hamilton's were more rectangular while his were square. Hamilton's were perched low on his nose, allowing him to look over them at people. He would never wear his glasses like that. Hamilton's made him look wilder, if that was possible. The glasses and wild hair (it was probably in a bun at the beginning of the day but Hamilton's nervous habit of running his hands through it often ruined such things) with the wild, daring eyes created quite the picture. 

A cleared throat distracted him from further investigation and he blinked, bringing himself back to the present. He looked at Hamilton who looked rather peeved. He leaned forward, steepling his fingers beneath his chin, and rested his elbows on the table, "I'm sorry, what was the problem again?" 

Hamilton drew in a deep breath and opened his mouth to begin his rant, "Are you done with that edit of the draft yet? I want to have it done by next week and I can't have you slowing me down. Washington is counting on me-" 

"Us," he interrupted, "Washington is counting on us. In any case I will have the draft to you by tomorrow, no earlier. If you bug me it knocks back the time you get it by one hour, don't make me start all over Hamilton." 

"Jefferson that is way too long. Editing it should only take you an hour. I mean sure, we might disagree but I know what I'm talking about in this paper. How long until you're done," Hamilton rambled, wringing his hands. He seemed twitchy and kept glancing over his shoulders, as if expecting someone, or something. 

"Hamilton with all due respect I've been at it for three hours already. I can clearly pick out more flaws than you think you are capable of. Now then, I will be heading home in an hour. Would you care to follow me to bother me there or is the workplace enough for you?" He didn't meant the last part but, at the smile that graced Hamilton's features he took it seriously. 

"Actually yes, I would quite enjoy going home with you. We could talk things out over dinner, if you're competent enough to make something decent that is," Hamilton shot back.  
He could have slapped himself right then. He'd invited Hamilton over, like a goddamn idiot. He sighed heavily and waved Hamilton out with one hand, the other picking up his pen again, "Get out. Now. If you really want to do this get out and be ready when I leave; I won't wait for you. Now get out before I get angry." As he finished he turned his tone to a snarl and growled out the last four words. 

Hamilton, for once, listened. As he exited the room, closing the door behind him he looked to the sky, giving silent thanks to whoever was up there. He paused, looking down to the paper in front of him, this would be a long partnership, however unwilling it may be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to beta hmu in comments

**2.) Hamilton was paranoid.**  
When he left his office he stopped by Sally to chat while he finished packing his stuff into his bag. His mind was elsewhere and she seemed to get that, only making small talk. He smiled and nodded in all the right places. He finished fastening his messenger bag before slipping it over one of his shoulders. He checked his watch and saw he was a few minutes early, per usual.  
He walked to the end of the hallway and waited outside Hamilton's door and began to count how long Hamilton had until he leaving. Exactly twenty three seconds before he walked away Hamilton burst out of his office, glasses askew, hair rumpled, and papers leaking from his own bag. 

He clapped his hands together and stood up, and off, the wall. He motioned for Hamilton to lead the way and, thankfully, he silently did so. They stepped into the elevator and he moved to one of the corners, better to hide in even if he was over six feet tall. He observed Hamilton, the man was still silent. He was furiously typing to someone on his phone when the lights flickered. He grabbed at the railing against the back of the elevator in fright, there was no way he was going to be stuck in an elevator with Hamilton. The universe seemed to disagree with him  
.  
The elevator lurched to a stop, and the lights flickered before they stayed out. Emergency lights came on. Hamilton looked up and swore, several times. He focused on his breathing even as he sunk to the floor. He couldn't do this. He hated small spaces, and normally he wouldn't take the elevator. Today he had only taken it because he wanted to be at least halfway decent to Hamilton. Hamilton fiddled with the fire call button and there was a conversation he was barely aware of before silence. He looked around and tried to convince himself that no, the walls were not closing in on him. To say the least, his plan didn't work. He could feel the whole room becoming smaller and the oxygen in it become sparser. He sunk to the ground in his corner. 

Soon his breathing was coming in harsh, gasping breaths. Distantly he heard someone (he couldn't tell nor did he really care) call him by his last name. He pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his head in them. He felt disjointed and his thoughts were blurs, racing past him leaving only fleeting impression. Hands slipped his bag off him. Tears slipped down and out of his eyes, making trails down his face. 

Hot breath on his ear made him focus. Another hand drew his to someone's chest. The chest was taking exaggerated breaths. A calm voice whispered, "Come on Thomas, breathe with me, please." 

He shook his head and sobbed, "I-I can't 'm sorry. 'M sorry." 

He was hushed and he immediately quieted. The voice responded, the epitome of calm, "Okay, that's fine. You're doing great; just focus on my voice. I'm going to ask you to clench your muscles and unclench them for me okay? Squeeze my shirt if you can do this for me." 

He weakly squeezed the shirt, focusing on the one thing that wasn't his panic or fear. He continued to listen and do what he could, and through this activity he felt some calm slip through his mind. Eventually his tears stopped and he found himself calm. His hand dropped from the chest and he lifted his head up, peering through his lashes at Hamilton. He knew the ridicule was coming. 

Hamilton blinked at him and softly asked, "What are five things you can see in here?" 

He was taken aback by the question but licked his lips and answered carefully, shakily, "I can see the tear stains on my jeans, our bags in the corner, the moth that somehow got in here, uh, the papers beneath you, and your glasses." 

Hamilton gave him a small smile which he returned before responding, "That's good, now how about four things you can hear." 

He considered the question before he said, "My heartbeat, my voice, your voice, and the electrical buzz of the emergency lights. Hamilton, what are you doing?" 

He didn't answer merely continuing, "Three things you can touch." 

He was slightly miffed about the lack of an answer but he knew he was still shaky so he said, "My favorite jacket, the floor, and you." 

Another sweet smile, "Two things you can smell now." 

He took a deep breath, "Your cheap cologne and coffee." 

"One thing you can taste, please." 

He answered, "I can taste the aftertaste of my gum I spit out before I went to go stand outside your office. Hamilton, please tell me what you are doing. I'm getting concerned; are you okay?" 

Hamilton shifted so he was sitting cross legged in front of him. "Says the man who just had a panic attack," he joked. 

He flinched and drew his legs closer to his chest. He buried his head back in his knees, breathing in the scent of his cologne to distract himself. He had just had a panic attack in front of Hamilton of all people. He was surely going to be teased about this. He sniffled brokenly and fought back another onslaught of tears. 

"Shit, I'm sorry Jefferson that was completely out of line. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it," Hamilton said. 

"Yes you did. Everyone loves to make fun of me, especially you; what makes this time any different? Just go ahead and tell all your friends. Make my life hell. I'm used to it," he halfheartedly snarled. Silence greeted his statement before hands pulled at his legs, forcing them to lay flat against the floor. His head was bowed but he could still see Hamilton climbing in his lap. Some small part of him snarled for him to push Hamilton off and fight him, do anything really. The larger part of him was curious why Hamilton was doing this. A hand gently tilted his head up until they were looking at each other, eye to eye, and way too close in his opinion. 

"Thomas, as shitty as I can be, and trust me I'm well aware that I can be pretty shitty. I would never tell anyone that. Please Thomas, believe me," Hamilton whispered, his eyes wide and earnest. He couldn't look away. Hamilton was invading all of his senses. He could feel Hamilton's knees brushing the inside of his thighs and his hand resting on top of his. He found he was unable to look away from the wide earnest eyes in front of him. Their breaths intermingled they were so close and he felt his neck and cheeks heat up. 

"Okay, okay, I believe you," he said, "Now get off me." Hamilton didn't do as he said rather, he looked down and seemed to be thinking. Hamilton gently clambered out of his lap and sat off to his left. He looked at him and was a bit worried; he'd never seen Hamilton so contemplative. 

"You know, I feel like you deserve something from me now. I mean, I guess I never realized it bt you have claustrophobia at the least and anxiety at the most. I really don't want you to feel like I'm going to use this against you so I guess I'll let you know something about myself. I guess you could say I'm paranoid, at least that's what I think this is. I'm always afraid that something or someone is going to kill me before I can do something with my life. I'm terrified of this, I mean, what if I'm not enough? What if I'm never enough?" Hamilton had started strong but as he continued his voice cracked and he ended brokenly. 

He looked over at the man who he'd always seen as selfish. He always acted first and asked questions later. He never cared what anyone else though and always barged ahead. As he heard Hamilton talk he felt that perception shatter. He thought back on his previous actions with Hamilton and realized what he had wrongly assumed. Hamilton was egotistical (who wasn't at their level of work?) but for the most part he was just trying to prove himself worthy of being remembered. 

"Well, if anything we will be remembered for our rivalry Hamilton," he blithely commented. 

"It's Alexander." 

"Thomas then," he said. As he finished the lights came back on and the elevator started moving again. He stood and grabbed their bags, handing Alexander his. By unspoken agreement they both headed to his car and got in.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, Just another chappie for ya. Also shout out to the comments and kudos I'm getting. Glad you guys enjoy. <3

**3.) Hamilton knew Shakespeare, quite well in fact.**

He pulled up to his place in silence. The entire ride here had been in silence, it unnerved him. His house was small, he'd moved here two months ago when the old one became too much. It had two bedrooms, a study, living room, and a kitchen. His bedroom doubled as his study and had an adjoined bathroom. He had a small television and the rest of his living room space was covered and books. As he got out he cast a look over to Hamil-Alexander (that would confuse him for awhile). The entire ride had been spent in a tense and awkward silence, at least it was to him. 

He broke the silence, "Sorry it's not the palace you imagine it to be." 

Hamilton looked around and shrugged lightly. He wished he could guess what was happening in that mind of his. With a sigh he led the way into the living room where he deposited his bag on his favorite arm chair. He gestured for Alexander to take a seat anywhere he wanted. His living room had a couch and two armchairs on either side of it. The walls were covered with bookcases and a television hung opposite the couch. The kitchen was separated from the living room by the island style counter. He idly moved to check the cupboards and fridge. 

He called, "Looks like I'm out of any good food so we're ordering takeout, any suggestions?" 

Alexander sat down on the couch and twisted to call back, "Chinese, anything chicken." He added as an afterthought almost, "Please." 

He nodded and chewed on his cheek in thought as he ordered. Once he finished he rubbed at his eyes. He walked to his bathroom and slipped his contacts out. He splashed his face with some cold water and hunched his back, looking at himself in the mirror. Could he do this? Could he wear his glasses in front of Hamilton? He pulled them out and slipped them out and looked at himself again. He gazed at himself for a few seconds before he smoothed any wrinkles on his outfit and rejoined Alexander. 

As he walked into the living room he saw Alexander drop the book he had been reading as if burned. With a half amused hum he picked it up. "I didn't know you were a fan of Shakespeare, and Much Ado About Nothing to boot. I must say you at least picked a good one," he complimented. He found his taste for biting comments and rude gestures had evaporated like fog on a fine summers day. After letting Alexander see him at, perhaps not his weakest, but more vulnerable he had no tongue for it. 

Alexander raised and eyebrow and looked at him which caused the second one to raise in shock. "Yes, well, the bard can write well. I believe he can write well than most playwrights of recent times," He agreed. 

He moved to get a bottle of wine and two glasses, offering one. Alexander took it and he poured them both a glass. He took a sip and asked, "Care to indulge me while we wait for food?" 

"Indulge in what? Your terrible taste in wine?" Alexander jibed. 

"Actually I was going to ask what play or sonnet of Shakespeare's you prefer. I'm rather partial to _Hamlet_ and _A Midsummers Night Dream_. How about you though? You always have opinions, go on and share them," he said. 

Alexander gave him a sidelong glance as he took a drink before replying, "I prefer _Taming of The Shrew_ and _Macbeth_. I like the latter because everyone believes it to be bad luck in the theatre community. That, quite frankly, cannot be true but the play itself is quite good, even if it has some inconsistencies. The former surely doesn't get as much press as it should. All of Shakespeare's works are good save one, _Romeo and Juliet_. That play is just way too overdone." 

He hummed, "Well I can agree with you on the _Macbeth_ front. _Romeo and Juliet_ is interesting, even if it is over done. I mean what was their great flaw, loving too much, having sex, or was it just fate?" 

A glare, "Their flaw is irrelevant. If Romeo had just waited a few minutes they might not have had to die. I mean the people kept defying their prince and maybe that’s what caused their deaths in the end." 

They continued to debate and expand on their opinions until the food arrived and even then as he sat back down Alexander picked up where they left off. The topics changed from play to play as they conversed. Some of that tension that had been there disappeared when he playfully threw some rice at Alexander proclaiming, "Are you kidding? Much Ado is amazing!" This necessitated a mini food war that they cleaned up before getting to the bill. 

He pulled it out of his bag and they amicably, or as amicable as you can get with two polar opinions, discussed things. He learned a bit about Alexander as, for once, he asked why some of his phrases were awkward instead of just suggesting improvement. They chatted and edited, consuming wine as they went. Eventually he looked up and saw the time. 

"Alexander, stay the night. It's already midnight and we both have work tomorrow. Just take my guest bedroom," he suggested. He looked up and saw Alexander nod sleepily. With some urging he led the man to his room and he soon retired thereafter. 

As he brushed his teeth he thought over the evening. He rinsed his mouth and tried to define what had been bothering him all evening. He finally figured it out as he got dressed for bed. They hadn't truly argued all evening. Everything said had been joking. Sure, the barbs were still sharp and witty but any force behind them seemed playful, friendly almost. They had finally been able to see each other as more than just an obstacle. They had disagreed sure but they also found middle ground on many things. He finally understood what Eliza had said to him once in passing as she forced Alexander to take a break. They were two great forces and their squabbling has distracted them from the fact that if they did happen to team up, lord help their enemies. As he got into bed he felt a small smile form. He hated fighting, he truly did, but he always had with Alexander. Maybe that could change. He wasn't looking for huge, lasting changes but a little change couldn’t hurt.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another chapter done, I am at your service you guys. Your Obedient Servant-Sylv

**4.) Alexander was not a morning person.**

He woke up with his normal alarm and got dressed for him morning run. He left a little note on the fridge, just in case. As he ran he contemplated what to do next, where to go from where he was. He greeted and waved at his neighbors as he ran. As he stopped to cross a street he rubbed at his bare chest in thought. He could probably make waffles when he got back, if Alexander was up. A fellow runner greeted him and he smiled. The light turned and he continued his run, which circled back to his house. He waved off his fellow runner and headed inside to find Alexander staring down at his cup of coffee like he was dead inside. 

He stood, breathing slightly heavy in the doorway to the kitchen. At length he spoke, "Alexander I'm not too sure that coffee cup, or the coffee in it, did anything to hurt you." 

Alexander's eyes slowly slid up to meet his. The bags beneath them were still there but they seemed lessened somewhat. Alexander slurred, "You're a freak. Who the hell gets up at fucking four in the morning for a two hour run. What the fuck man, I mean really. Holy shit, is that a tattoo?" 

His hand darted to said tattoo and covered it. It was on his chest and covered the upper right half of it. It was a cloud surrounded by the night sky with some stars sprinkled in the darker areas. In the cloud was inscribed the phrase "si vis amari, ama" or "if you wish to be loved, love." Awkwardly he rubbed it and looked down at it. "Yes it is Alexander. Also it is not that weird to want to stay in shape. I also go to the gym four times a week. I take it you aren't a morning person?" He said. 

Alexander groaned and said, "How do you even function? Do whatever, I can try and make something for breakfast, repay your hospitality and all that. Just, leave me to wallow." 

He nodded and moved to take a shower. Walking into his room he pondered how just one day ago he would never have thought this possible. He showered quickly and got dressed and slipped his contacts in. He walked out of his room with a towel around his shoulders, his hair took awhile to dry. He sat at the counter as he watched Alexander work on the omelets he seemed to be making. He began to towel off his hair to pass the time. Alexander turned around to plate their food and froze, staring at him. He froze for a second but continued to dry his hair after the stare continued. "Alexander, is there a problem?" He asked, unsure of what exactly was happening. 

"You are never allowed to come to work with wet hair," Alexander replied, avoiding his eyes and looking down as he plated the foods. 

He grabbed his plate and slid it towards himself, "Okay? I wouldn't anyway? It's like me wearing my glasses, it will never happen. You do not have to worry about that." He took a bite and gave a pleased hum, "You aren't to bad of a cook, Alexander. Thank you for the meal." He quickly ate the rest while he waited for the response. 

Alexander, still avoiding his eyes said, "Right, good, that's good. I mean it's not good because you should be able to wear what you want but, it's good. Yes, I know it's surprising I can cook, most people wouldn't know it. Honestly, wasn't a big deal. You made me stay here last night so I had to repay you somehow." 

He began to towel off his hair again, "You didn't have to repay me. I just didn't want a drunk or even buzzed you wandering the streets alone, call it compassion or just human decency." 

A snort, "Before yesterday I wouldn't have pegged you to have either of those. In fact I would've expected you to blackmail me into something." 

He nodded, "Yes well sharing some of the more private secrets of one's life can make us in to separate beings we once thought we were. I mean for instance, I thought you wouldn't stop working because of your ego but now I see you just want to be remembered. I suppose I can sympathize with that. Being forgotten does not seem, pleasant, but surely there are other ways to go about it. I may be able to help you, if you are willing to let me, that is." 

Alexander shifted and narrowed his eyes behind his glasses, "Let's get better acquainted to each other before we do anything else. I can't quite force myself to trust you beyond crashing here after four days of no sleep. Just, one step at a time. Now, if you're quite done pampering yourself we need to leave if I'm going to be to work like I normally am." 

He nodded, "One step at a time. Alright, alright. Keep your panties on mom, I have to go blow dry this mess. I'll be back" He got off his chair with an eye roll and deposited his plate in the sink. He quickly blow dried his hair, bringing it back to it's fluffy, natural state. He grabbed his favorite magenta jacket, it was a longer suit jacket, and slipped it on. 

He paused walking out of his room and looked at the one photo he kept of Martha. His eyes softened and he smiled. "Hey," he whispered, "looks like I might be getting better at the whole 'talking to people' thing. You were right, I should have listened to you more. You were always right." He wiped at his eyes and his fingers slipped to the necklace that held his wedding band. He sighed and looked to the ceiling, thinking for a second before he walked back out to the living room and opened the door after grabbing his bag. 

"Finally," Alexander grumbled as he rushed out the door to the car. He laughed and followed him, locking the door behind him. He got in the car and turned on some music, which they spent the whole ride to work arguing over. Though, he supposed it wasn't true arguing anymore. They both recognized they wouldn't change the other opinions but they still playfully debated, smiling almost the whole time. When they got to their level of the office they laughed together before going their separate ways, much to the surprise of their coworkers. Oh yes, even if they didn't end up good friends this would be fun. He couldn't wait.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy, as always.

**5.) Alexander knew how to help.**  

Twelve months, one year since Martha's death. He promised himself he wouldn't do anything he regretted yet here he was, sipping bourbon at ten in the morning. He took another drink from his glass and resigned himself to not moving the rest of the day. He was on his couch and it was a Saturday, so nothing was expected of him. He turned on some inane documentary to pass the time but he could barely focus. His free hand, not holding his glass, wandered up to his wedding band on his necklace and lightly played with it. He took another drink as he fought back what wouldn't be the first nor the last urge to cry. He hated this somedays. He hated how he was reduced to tears by the mere memories that haunted him. He hated how weak it made him feel but at the same time he indulged in it today. He was not going to enjoy Monday. 

A text on his phone made him pull it out. 

**AlexANDER:** u comin to the movies w/me today or??? 

**Timmy:** No, sorry. Today is not a good day.... 

**AlexANDER** : OH SHIT MAN,,,,,,, 

**AlexANDER:** need someone to talk to? Is k if you dont 

**Timmy:** I mean, I don't know. Maybe? 

**AlexANDER:** im comin over, you better b dressed 

**Timmy:** You don't have to. 

**AlexANDER:** I know, im still comin tho. 

He sighed and got up, draining his cup. He put it in the sink and put the bottle away. As he waited for Alexander to get here he pondered their relationship. In the close to five months they had been talking they had actually become quite good friends. They fought, sure, but overall they worked quite well together. No one knew how this started nor would they tell anyone. Alexander was actually quite good at helping him deal with his anxiety. He often found himself going to Alexander's office to calm down or rant with him. Alexander, in turn, often did the same. It wasn't unusual any more to find them together discussing something or other. This is where the biggest problem came in. He no longer had a reason to hate Alexander so avoiding his beauty was hard. His tanned skin, while paler than it could be, was somehow still healthy looking. His eyes which were so intelligent and playful often enraptured him and he might have missed a thing or two due to them. His hair was long and silky looking, though often quite frazzled. To put it plainly he, Thomas Jefferson, might have a crush on Alexander Hamilton. He was sure it would fade soon though, mot of his did after a few months. Besides, he couldn't risk their friendship anyways. Alexander meant more to him than some silly crush. 

A knock on the door drew him from his thoughts. He walk over to open in and was nearly bowled over by Alexander as he came in. He had blankets and some other stuff from what he could see. He closed the door and slunk over to the couch where Alexander stood waiting. He was forced to sit and was immediately swaddled in a blanket. Alexander sat next to him and drew him close, so he was pretty much leaning on him. He relaxed against Alexander and tuned out everything else. He buried his face in the crook of Alexander's neck and drew in a shaky breath, unwilling to cry on him. Alexander turned and drew him so he was pretty much laying on him and gently pet his hair. 

"You know, I'm willing to bet she's proud of you. Did I ever tell you I met her once? I think it was right after she found out she was pregnant. She told me to lay off you but, I, of course, ignored her," Hamilton babbled as he began to cry. His hands fisted in his shirt and he body shook with the effort of repressing his sobs, somewhat. Soon though, his sobs became loud and he shook terribly as he cried against Alexander. He babbled about his Martha and Jane, his dear Jane. Through it all Alexander held him and shushed him. The hand petting his hair moved to running through it. Eventually his tears dried and he just sobbed brokenly against Alexander. He sniffled and just lay against Alexander. 

As he lay there he remembered something similar happening not a month before. Alexander's best friend, John Laurens, had passed a little more than a month before Martha. That day he had gone over to Alexander's house and held him through his dry eyed, mute, sadness. Eventually they had both gotten drunk and passed out on the couch together. He had woken up first and had had to pry Alexander off of him. They hadn't spoke about it but a tension had been added to their relationship. Their absentminded touches had gained purpose and, their shared glances had turned long and searching. 

He heard Alexander start to talk again but it was all white noise to him. He closed his eyes and focused to the breathing body below him. He knew it was terrible to do but he felt so at peace in Alexander's arms. He gradually relaxed and his sobs quieted down. He focused back in on what was being said and was surprised to find Alexander reading _Hamlet_  to him. He slowly wrapped the blanket around Alexander too and cuddled (for what other word could he use?) closer. He could feel himself drifting off to sleep against Alexander. He went to sit up and grumpily unwrapped himself. The effects of the alcohol from earlier were in full swing and he stumbled slightly when he stood up. His old college shirt was faded and worn as he walked to his room. Alexander worriedly followed him, staying silent. 

He laid down on his bed and made room for Alexander who sat beside him and picked up reading where he left off, making different voices for each character. Alexander reclined against the headboard upon which he slung an arm around his waist and buried his head on his chest. He took deep breaths and closed his eyes, relaxing against him. As he felt himself drift off to sleep he swore he felt a small kiss on his forehead and a blanket cover him. 

He came to hours later, head on Alexander's lap as he typed away on his laptop. He blinked lazily and merely laid there, watching Alexander's face. He piped up after a couple minutes, "Typing about Adams?" 

Alexander looked down in surprise but nodded, "Yeah, I'm doing one of my rant essays. Want to help me critique it? I'm debating over whether or not to call him and irreparable irresolute idiot or a fatty fraudulent faker." 

He hummed and a small smile formed on his face, "You know it. I'd go with the first one, more mature." 

They spent the rest of the day making fun of Adams in Alexander's essay and ate pizza for dinner. Thomas felt the depressive sadness drag at him at time but Alex always drug him back with a witty comment in his essay or as they did later, shouting at the television for it's inaccuracies in the historical documentaries. Despite his hesitance to let anyone see him cry every time tears leaked from his eyes Alexander held him close and calmed him down. That happened more than he would like but he knew today and the next two days would be the worst. That was why when Alexander declared he would be staying with him for the next two days he felt absolute adoration seep through him. As he headed to bed at some god awful time in the morning he knew he was in safe hands.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preemptively, don't worry my dears. Alexander knows what he did and he isn't too happy with himself afterwards.

**6.) Alexander wasn't an only child.**  

Thomas was relaxing on the tiny (it was honestly crazy how small it was) couch in Alexander's office after a speech, as he was wont to do nowadays. He had his elbow covering his face and his legs dangled off the end of it. A knock on the door startled him and he called, "Come in." 

His elbow dropped from his face and he saw something he'd never thought he'd see. The man looked like a taller, broader, Hamilton. The man had lighter eyes though and he had a more square jaw. He blinked dumbly up at the man who probably stood taller than him. One hand gave a small wave and he smiled weakly. 

"Who the hell are you?" The man demands.  

He lets out an "uhhhhhhhh" before being interrupted as Alexander burst in the room. He dumbly looked between them. One of his eyebrows rose as he did so. The two looked exceedingly similar, too similar. He didn't say anything but watched as Alexander seemed to look between the man and him worriedly. 

"Thomas, this is James, my older brother. James, this is Thomas, a close friend," he introduced them. His eyes widened in surprise; he wasn't aware he was "a close friend." Though, upon further thought they had been fast friends for about seven months. 

James nodded condescendingly down at him and hissed, "I need to talk to you, alone." 

Alexander shook his head as he closed the door, "Whatever you want to say can be said to both of us, James. I doubt anything you say can surprise either of us." 

He watched them like it was a tennis match, back and forth they went. He studied Alexander's movements, the were tight and tense; he wasn't happy to see James. Some long forgotten string of protectiveness rose in him and he instantly hated James. He had never heard of James before but now he wished he never had. He kept his distaste to himself though and merely sat up on the couch, spreading out over it to still take up too much space for James to sit by him (but enough for Alexander, always enough for him). Alexander took this as an invitation and sat next to him, almost on top of his leg in fact. His arm circled around Alex's shoulders and he felt unsatisfied that he can't do more. 

James bites his lip before saying, "I need money. I-I went and lost all my salary gambling, again. If I don't have money soon I'll be in big trouble. You have to help me out little bro." 

He narrowed his eyes. He knew Alexander was barely getting by as is, but this loss of money would put him into debt. He could easily give Alexander the funds but he refused every time. In his opinion it would be better to just leave it be and let James deal with his own issues. The damning words were on the tip of his tongue, begging to be said when Alexander answered, "I'll do it." 

He choked on his spit and looked helplessly at Alexander. He sighed and covered his face with his hand not on Alexander's shoulder. He counted his breaths and measured them. He ignored everything that was said until Alexander shook him off and moved to write the check for the money. He moved his hands so they were resting in his lap and he looked up to James. He caught his eye and expressed his _exact_  feelings in one glare. It was heated and he was furious that this would happen to Alexander, how dare James. James flinched and looked away; he smirked in victory and stood, stretching languidly. 

Alexander ripped the check out of his check book and handed it to James saying, "Here, that's the amount you asked for. I hope things go well for you." 

James nodded in thanks and went to walk out, he followed. He gave a small wave to Alexander in farewell and matched James' pace until they were out of the building. At this point he grabbed James' arm and drug him out of sight, into the parking garage. 

"Look," he growled, "you _ever_  ask Alexander for even the slightest bit of money again and I'll personally drive you out of this country. After all, it would be such a shame for your visa to expire early wouldn't it?" He inspected his nails for show, knowing it would make him look the asshole he was portraying. 

"You can't. You wouldn't; it would crush Alexander," James hissed. 

He disinterestedly looked at James, "I can and will. You'd be surprised what connections I have. I've been in the political game my whole life. He seemed more upset that you were here to be honest. After all no one even knew he had a brother until you showed up. Do yourself a favor; lose contact with Alexander." As he spoke he kept his voice deadly calm with just a hint of steel to it. Many people claimed that this was him at his most terrifying. 

James flinched and looked down before walking away without another word. He watched him until he got in a car and left. Spinning on his heel he walked back to Alexander's office, knocking lightly on the doorframe. He heard a call for him to come in so he walked in and closed the door behind him. He sat in the uncomfortable seat before Alexander, waiting for him to finish what he was working on. 

When Alexander turned to him he raised his eyebrows. He licked his lips and thought about how best to say this. He leaned forward, hunching, to rest his elbows on his knees. "So," he began, "I'm pretty sure that you nor anyone looking that similar to you should be that tall." 

He was rewarded with a single bark of laughter, "Yeah, it is a bit weird. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about him but for the most part we don't talk. He comes to me when he needs things, and I can't just leave him helpless so I help him. You wouldn't get it?" 

He hummed, "Wouldn’t I? I have nine siblings Alexander. I'm not unfamiliar with helping them you know. Of course I take more the tough love approach. Hand ups not hand outs Alexander. Now then, I do believe you might have trouble with making your rent this month?" 

He was cut off, "Absolutely not! You are not helping me, Thomas. I can do this; I'm fine." 

He frowned. "Alexander we both know that is a lie. I'm not doing it out of pity. I just want to make sure you can make rent this month without starving yourself. Please, just this once, let me help," he pleaded. 

He reached across the desk and took Alexander's hands in his, squeezing them lightly. Alexander jerked his hands out of his and folded them on his lap and looked down at them. He avoided eye contact while he said, "Get out _Jefferson._  If you're going to flaunt your wealth again I suggest you leave. After all I'm convinced you just want people to push your money on; am I right? I'm surprised your wife died, what with all the money you have." 

He felt himself let out a huff of air; it felt like a punch to the gut to hear his last name. He was emotionally exhausted from earlier and this made him feel worse. As Alexander continued he felt tears pricking at his eyes. The last sentence made something in him snap. He stood up and stormed out of the office, furious tears streaming down his eyes. He slammed the door as he left and went to his office making sure Sally was not to let Alexander in on any circumstance. 

He locked his office and buried his face in his arms. He let out a broken sob against his arms. His sobs were loud enough for Sally to hear but, he found he didn't care for once. He heard the door open and looked up to see James walk in and close the door behind him. He felt James wrap his arms around his shoulder and hug him. 

"Hey now, what are the tears for?" James ask. He tearfully explained what had happened. James held him closer and pet his hair. He buried his face in James' shoulder. 

Eventually he quieted and pulled away. James patted his shoulder and headed off. He silently began to work again. He felt absolutely drained as he continued but he put the same amount of work into his papers though. He focused on the monotony of it, burying himself in clauses and articles. After awhile he distantly heard arguing. He looked up and could identify some, no, all of the voices. Sally, James, and Alexander seemed to be having one in front of his office. Washington intervened and the arguing stopped. He looked at his hand, which was shaking from something, and nodded to himself as he got back to work.


	7. Chapter 7

**7.) Alexander could apologize.**  

When he left his office at the end of the day he heard Alexander call out to him and he steadfastly ignored it. He ignored it as he took the stairs and heard Alexander follow. He ignored it as he was called at on the way to his car. Most of all, he ignored all the texts and calls when he got home. When he got home he ignored everything in favor of getting dressed in an old college shirt, sweatpants that hung rather low on his hips, and his glasses. He ignored everything until he couldn't and he just lay on his couch, staring into nothing. He tried to think about what could justify Alexander saying that but, he couldn't, he just couldn't. 

He picked up his phone when it went off with Lafayette's number. He forced his calm demeanor on and asked, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

There was a voice talking rapidly in the background but Lafayette answered, "It seems Alexander has committed a grave error regarding you. He has been trying to contact you but, it seems that you have been ignoring him." 

He slowly responded, "Yes, he did something that was, rather uncalled for. I believe though that my point of ignoring him is being made quite well. I do not wish to hear from him right now." 

A sigh from the other end, "Please, Thomas, if you do not wish to talk to him at least read what he is saying. He knows what he did but please allow him the benefit of the doubt." 

He replied, "I'm on speaker and he's there with you, isn't he?" 

A curse and a sound like someone getting punched was his answer. He hung up as a response. He got up and poured himself a drink, selecting his fine red wine. He poured himself a glass and turned the television on to the cooking channel. He had seen the storm clouds earlier and it seemed the storm had broke with loud booms of thunder now. He pulled his curtains closed; he wasn't a fan of storms. He sat and started drinking his was through the bottle.  

About two hours in (and most of the bottle drank) someone knocked on his door. He slowly turned to the urgent knocking. Slowly he slunk off his couch and to the door. He opened it, looking every bit as disheveled as he felt. He found Alexander standing there, bouncing on his feet. Immediately he went to slam the door but Alexander's foot got in the way. He rolled his eyes and opened the door again, leaning against the frame. He swirled the remaining wine in his glass before taking a fortifying drink. "Yes?" He asked. 

Alexander fidgeted with his hands before he looked him in the eyes before looking away again. "Look," he began, "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have lashed out at you. I was feeling bad because my brother had come to visit and I knew you'd be disappointed in me-" 

"Stop," He commanded. Alexander stopped and looked up at him and he leaned down so they were eyes level. He held the gaze unblinkingly, and deadly calm, intent on making Alexander uncomfortable. Alexander broke the stare and looked down at his feet, a furious blush coating his cheeks. 

"I don't care what you think you're going to say to me, nor do I particularly care. Leave me alone for a couple of days; use these days to refine your apology. However you _ever_ bring up Martha again and I will do my best to _destroy_ you. I will do so emotionally and physically, not to mention your reputation. Are we clear?" He said a steel edge to his voice. 

Alexander swallowed nervously at the sincerity in his eyes but nodded and turned around and looked at the rain that was coming down in sheets now. He sighed and said, "Get in here 'til the rain passes." 

He stepped aside as Alexander walked in and perched on one end of the couch. He pressed himself into the arm, as if he were intent on getting as far away from him as possible. He flopped back down on the couch and poured himself another glass of wine, drinking it in large gulps. He looked over to Alexander and found the man steadfastly ignoring his gaze. He shrugged and went back to mentally berating the people on his cooking shows. 

Eventually the storm passed and he cleared his throat causing Alexander to turn towards him. He gestured for him to leave and he did so, opening his mouth to say something before apparently thinking better of it. As the door closed his relaxed and stretched out against the couch where he fell asleep. 

The next three days of work, leading up to Friday were spent in icy silence. In meetings he carefully dismantled Alexander's plans with brutal efficiency and the man didn't fight back at all; he merely took the hits. James became his confidant again and accepted the role with little reluctance. That changed however when he came to work on Friday. An envelope was taped to his office door. He carefully peeled it off and admired the penmanship of the "For: T. Jefferson" written on it. He opened it up as he sat down and was rewarded with the sight of several pieces of fine, decorative paper. As he sat the sheets down he observed that it all looked to be quill written. He pulled the first piece towards him and began reading. 

_My Dearest Thomas,_  

_You must forgive the sloppiness of this letter as I found it hard to contain my thoughts to myself (as you so often joked about). I took your advice and found it a good idea. Until_ _I w_ _rote this I never thought those words might leave my pen, quill, or lips. That being said I cannot deny it anymore than one may deny his or her need for air. For me to deny the advice you have given me over the past months would be like a man wishing to be shackled to one spot for eternity, foolish and brash. I write to you to express my regret at the hot headed utterances I have spewed both recently and in the past._  

_Firstly I wish to correct the errors of my mouth from long past. As I pondered how to phrase my letter for my most recent faux pas I realized there was more to correct. My (in)famous mouth has often gotten the better of me while we have been in acquaintance. My first error I have made time and time again is the error of assuming your need to impress. Yes, you are quite well endowed with money that much would be hard to dispute, even for one such as myself, but, you do not pity anyone who is less fortunate than you. It is to my belief that you merely wish to help those who struggle as you cannot bear to watch us struggle or possibly suffer. You also are not, despite my numerous enunciations, a_ _narcissistic egomaniac. I learned this in the way you always worry what others will think and I myself have spent many an hour soothing you. You often came near to panic attacks due to your convinced "failures" but you must know that you are a simply wonderful human being. You also are not someone "who loves to hear his own voice." I am, by now, well aware that my words are quite false; you hate talking, especially in front of crowds. I was not made aware until the last big speech you had to drink to feel comfortable enough to even begin to speak._  

_Secondly, I wish to recant my most recent outburst with all of my power. I realized not one minute after the words left my lips how wrong they were. In my anger at myself and my brother my brain wished to lash out at the first person in range. That person unfortunately turned out to be you. My brain cultivated the things it knew to be the most personal and damning to you and used them. I will say it a million times until I am forgiven, I am truly sorry. I am sorry for bringing up something that should never had been brought up. I had no right to talk about your wife in such a way._ _Martha, from what I know, was a dear friend to all and was the perfect significant other to you. I sullied her name with my fierce declarations;_ _I am sorry. My statement has_ _driven_ _a wedge between us I fear I will not be able to overcome anytime soon. For_ _that too, I am sorry._  

_Words have been my safe haven through my life. Through them I have cultivated entire cultures and ripped tyrants from their thrones. Never before have I wanted something so simple from my words (yet is it truly so simple?): forgiveness. I have rewritten this letter multiple times trying to convey my regrets yet nothing seems to fully capture my regret as_ _wholly_ _as I wish them to. My words, which at times are too much, will never be enough for me to ask, no, beg for forgiveness. I have no other words to explain my actions but I do wish to express what your friendship means to me. So, if you will indulge me I wish to share what the past seven months._  

_Your friendship is something I have never experienced before nor, do I hypothesize I will ever experience again. While our opinions do differ rather radically from each others we still compromise and explain why we have such views. Your smile lights up a room when you laugh at me and, I feel as though my worries are lifted when you do such. My heart sometimes seems to beat with yours when you do a speech so worried am I for you. I cannot calm myself until you are calm and often it seems we must calm each other. You calm me like the ocean air once did or like writing does. I hold no explanation for understanding how we are so close after such a short time. My whole worlds seems to revolve on how you think, how you are, and how to help you. No one has so successfully enmeshed themselves in my life like you have. I believe this to be a good thing. It seems I am running out of paper so it seems I must end here._  

_Yours Faithfully,_  

_Alexander Hamilton_  

He put the letter neatly back into the envelope and knew he had forgiven Alexander. He stood and walked to Alexander's office only to see the man buried under a veritable mountain of paper. Alexander however froze and walked around his desk to greet him with a small, hopeful smile. In response he hugged him fiercely. 

"God damn you. I can't stay mad at you, you know. Now you have me crying over you're fucking words. I hate you sometimes," he said letting the tears fall that had been gathered from reading the letter.  

Alexander let out a wet laugh and returned the hug just a fiercely.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of cliffhanger but dw I have Plans forthe next chappie

**8.) Alexander was a flirt.**  

They had spent the rest of that Friday together, working in one another's offices. They slipped back into their old routine (with many more apologies from Alexander). Eventually they were found with Alexander on his lap on the tiny couch trying to put his hair in pigtails, much to his amusement. 

"Alexander I don't think this is going to go as good as you think," he said, amusement lacing his tone. 

"Shut up. It'll work. Now hold still," Alexander said around the hair ties in his mouth. 

The door opened and what looked to be the rest of Alexander's friends walked in (Lafayette, Mulligan, Laurens, and the Schuyler sisters). He looked over, biting his lip to keep from laughing and made a shushing motion. They all nodded and kept quiet but were struggling to hide their amusement as well. Finally Alexander sat back and shrugged, saying, "There, it looks perfect." 

Judging by the sudden burst of uncontrollable laughter from the friends, it looked far from perfect. He picked up his phone and turned the camera to look at himself. He busted up laughing; this look was _not_  a good one for him. Alexander pouted first at him then, he turned to his friends to pout. He smothered his laughter behind a hand but his entire body, and subsequently Alexander, was shaking with laughter. Alexander lightly slapped him in jest and hissed, "It's not funny!" 

His caused him to lose his composure even more and he cracked up worse. He accidentally rolled off the tiny couch and took Alexander with him. Alexander ended up beneath him and squirmed so he was on top of his, still shaking with laughter, body. Alexander crossed his arms petulantly and glared at everyone in the room. He rolled so he was on his back and mimicked his position, though Alexander was now straddling him. Normally this wouldn't be a problem but someone wolf whistled and he blushed, quickly shoving Alexander off him and standing up. He brushed some dirt off of his shirt and helped Alexander up, avoiding his gaze.  

He quickly made his way back to his office and buried his face in his hands. He knew it was bad to have a crush on Alexander; what would Martha say? Well, she would probably tell him whatever made him happy made her happy. He just didn't know anymore. He wanted Alexander, desperately, but, it felt like he was betraying Martha. He scrubbed at his face to try and clear his mind; it didn't work. He heard someone walk in and a hand rested on his shoulder. He put his hands down and found himself face to face with Alexander. Their breaths intermingled and he felt his face and neck heat up furiously. He went to look away but a hand holding his chin stopped that. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Alexander's gaze, wide and honest as it was. 

"Thomas? What's wrong? Was it something I said or did? Or were my friend rude?" Alexander trailed off, uncertain. 

Thomas minutely shook his head and mumbled, "No, it's fine. You're good, promise." 

Alexander moved closer, eyes hungrily searching his face for something, "You sure? I can always get them to stop." Alexander nervously licked his lips. 

He silently swore in his head and tried to reign himself in. However, despite that, his hands moved to weave into Alexander's hair. "I'm sure," he murmured, "you worry too much, darlin'." 

Alexander gasped and leaned forward the few inches that separated them. Their lips connect in a slow sweet kiss. He lets out a little, pleased, hum and tightens his grips in Alexander's hair. Then everything comes crashing back down on him. He is _kissing_  Alexander. He releases the grip in Alexander's hair and pushes him away at the shoulders. He gasps at the loss of contact but, looks at Alexander equal parts scared and confused. 

Alexander is the first to break the silence between them, "Oh my God, Thomas, I am so sorry. I mean you probably feel violated by me and I just kissed you. I mean who does that? I shouldn't have done that, can you forgive me? I wouldn't forgive me if someone did that to me-" 

"Stop, Alexander just, stop," he whispers hoarsely, voice rough from emotion. Alexander freezes and looks at him, helpless. He continues, "You didn't 'violate me'" he air quotes, "and don't apologize. It was- It was good. I-I liked it." 

Alexander let out a deep huff of air, "That's good, great in fact. I've wanted to do that for awhile but I didn't want to overstep anything. Could we do that some more? I mean if you want to." 

A small frown graced his features, "No, we can't do that anymore. It's not you; it's me." 

Alexander's small smile faltered, "I'm sorry what? You clearly enjoyed that kiss meaning you at least like me back. Now you're saying we can't be together? Or at least try something?" As alexander talked his voice got more and more furious, keeping to low tones. 

He flinched and said, "I do like you back, quite a bit in fact. We just can't do this, Alexander. It goes against my way of life. I'm from the South. How do you think the people supporting me would react if they found out I was anything but heterosexual? Did that ever occur to you?" 

Alexander looked at him and his face became set with determination. "Fuck other people," Alexander growled, "We both like each other; that's enough for me. You want to be with me don't you?" A nod from him and Alexander continues, "Then what the hell's the problem? That doesn't matter thought because I can always try and convince you." 

As Alexander spoke he leaned into his personal space. He take a deep gulp of air, trying to fight down his blush, and instead is rewarded with a deep breath of a scent that is uniquely, _Alexander_. It smells like vanilla, aftershave, and mostly, ink. He looks up at Alexander who has his mischievous smirk on. "Don't worry," Alexander purrs, "I'll take good care of you." 

He then stands up from where he was leaning down and saunter out of his office. He swallows thickly, this is going to be fun. 

The next day his thoughts are proven right by the bouquet of flowers waiting for him at his desk. He can't help the smile that forms at the sight of them though. Throughout the next week Alexander constantly finds and excuse to touch him, whether innocently or not. Alexander's hands linger on his shoulders, hips, and his own hands. Alexander's smiles are no longer innocent and his eyes rove his body like he doesn't even have clothes on. When Alexander whispers in his ears his lips brush his ear. Alexander also has taken to agreeing with him in public, or just not saying anything at all. Everyday Alexander buys him lunch and feeds it to him, claiming he doesn't mind. Alexander lets the hugs linger into just too long of a hug. Alexander kisses his cheeks and hands unabashedly in front of everyone. Every time he's kissed he blushes darkly enough for everyone to see (and laugh at but that is silenced by Alexander's challenging glare). He can feel his resolve against Alex weakening at a rapid pace but memories of Martha stop him from giving in every time. Finally as he drives home that Friday he can relax.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge timeskip coming up in the next chapter, just a heads up.

**9.) Alexander was persistent, to a fault.**  

He had gotten home and dressed in his informal clothes before settling down in his favorite chair to read _Macbeth_ again. As he read he thought about Alexander's recent behavior. He found it charming and sweet, if a little overbearing. Alexander had taken everything into consideration, especially with his "special" gifts. The flower bouquet's flowers had been hand picked according to Victorian flower language. He had once mentioned his adoration for it in passing to Alexander so to say that had been a pleasant surprise would be and understatement. He shifted as he remembered the gift of grass, everyone had been confused when Alexander had given it to him and he'd busted up laughing. He'd laughed until tears were streaming down his face. Grass could mean homosexual love and everyone just thought it was an inside joke, in a way it was. The cupcakes Alexander had brought him Wednesday had been cinnamon and apple, his favorite flavor combination, and, yet another thing mentioned in passing to Alexander. Once he had said how Alexander never listened but, now, now it seemed he had never _stopped_ listening to him. He blinked heavily an returned to reading his book, intent on finishing at least the first two acts. 

 He must have fell asleep because the next thing he knows he hears the door being opened to his house. He sighs in his head, he hopes that isn't a robber. He sleepily blinks his eyes open to find Alexander smiling sweetly down at him. He sits up from his uncomfortable slump he'd fallen into while he slept. He rubbed at his neck, trying to get rid of the kink in it. Alexander took the book from his hand and said, "Mind doing an experiment for me? Nothing sexual or anything, swear. Just lay face down on your carpet for me. Oh, and uh, take your shirt off. I swear on my writing it's not what you think." 

He raises a brow at that, suspicious, but, ultimately he complies. He laid in front of his small coffee table, shirt off to the side. He kept his arms to his sides and has his head turned to one side. He was about to say something when Alexander sat down on his hips. The question danced on the tip of his tongue when two hands began to massage him, deeply. He let an involuntary moan of approval. A chuckle was the answer to his sound. He felt Alexander lean so he could see him. He grinned and said, "My, my Thomas, you sound so _eager_ for my touch." 

"Keep goin' and you might get a prize, darlin'," he purred in response. A sharp intake of breath before the massage started up again. He let out a little hum of appreciation and let Alexander work his magic. He relaxed and went basically limp under Alexander's ministrations. Eventually he knew he would have to give in to Alexander. The man _had_ walked to his house (or biked, either way, impressive) with the intent of seducing him. Judging by Alexander's eagerness to help, especially for a "prize," he was facing a losing battle. No reason to play a game though, he thought with a lazy smirk. 

Alexander slid off his hips and he rolled onto his back whereupon Alexander straddled him again. He grabbed Alexander by his collar and pulled him down until they were a few sparse inches apart. One of his hands ran through Alexander's hair and tossed the tie somewhere else. He can see the effect he's having on Alexander and smirks, whispering, "Now then, what to give you for a present? I wonder...." 

Alexander whined and leaned closer responding, "I want this," before kissing him roughly. He easily let Alexander take control of the kiss. Alexander grabbed his hair and tugged lightly to adjust his grip. He let out a little moan as an answer. Alexander broke the kiss and whispered against his lips, "What will it take to get more from you? And, how do I know you aren't playing a game with me?" 

He smiled lazily, "You don't. Now, if you'll get off me I have some dinner to make." 

Alexander sighed dramatically but slid off him all the same. He chuckled, standing up. He moved to his kitchen where he got out some preparations for dinner. He decided on some hamburger dish. As he browned the hamburger Alexander wrapped his arms around his waist and buried his face in his shoulder. He turned his head to look over his shoulder, "Yes darlin'?" 

Alexander hummed and a hand lazily came up to trace his tattoo. He shuddered beneath the touch but continued to work on dinner. Soon, dinner was finished. He plated the food and moved to the couch, Alexander trailing behind him loyally. When he sat down on the couch Alexander sat right beside him. As they ate Alexander would often pause and watch him with soft eyes. He would also pause when Alexander did and give him a small, innocent smile. Eventually he tucked a loose strand of Alexander's hair behind his ear and gently cupped his face. His thumb gently stroked Alexander's cheek.  

Afterwards he couldn't tell who leaned forward first but suddenly they were furiously making out on his couch. His hands slipped beneath Alex's shirt as he was straddled. They only broke away for air. Panting they looked at each other breathlessly. He murmured, "Guess my little game went out the window. I guess I have no choice but to kiss your beautiful face again." 

Alexander blushed lightly but smirked at him and said, "So, does that mean I'm allowed to date you now?"  

He nodded kissed what skin he could reach, Alexander's hands and arms were his main target right now. Alexander leaned back down so they could properly kiss.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, it's been a great ride and the first installment is done! I'm so happy that this is done, and I can't wait to start the next one. I'll probably get that out next year if not tomorrow~ Thank you to all my faithful commenters and for all the kudos. I love you allyou guys, thank you so much for reading ;3;

**10.) Alexander loved him.**  

Two years had passed in relative ease. Sure, they fought and when they did it was brutal and unforgiving. He had had to work through his problems with his past but with Alexander's help he did. They had kept their relationship a secret at his request for three months. In the end it had been made public because he'd snarled at Adams to get his hands off _his_ boyfriend. Needless to say _everyone_ had been surprised but, they had been accepted relatively well. At six months they had fallen into a comfortable groove with each other. They began to honestly balance each other out. He made sure Alexander did necessary life functions (read: eating, sleeping, and drinking) while Alexander tried his best to help him with his anxiety. 

At one year they moved in together. They spent a whole day packing and unpacking Alexander's stuff, and moving it into his house. They soon found they had too many books, so they got rid of all the ones they had more than one copy of. The first night they spent in _their_ bed was heaven. He was pleased by this change because it meant he could actually make sure Alexander wasn't working himself to death. Some mornings were worse than others, as they had always been. It wasn't completely out of the bounds of normal for him to wake up and be consumed by anxiety. It unfortunately fell to Alexander, his darling Alexander, to calm him. 

Two years brought them to today. Alexander had stayed home claiming a headache. He wondered if Alexander had forgot about their anniversary. He voiced his words to James who just brushed him off with a knowing smile. Imagine his surprise when he received a letter with a bouquet of red, thornless, roses. He smiled and read the small car attached. 

_My dearest, Thomas,_  

_I hope you may be_ _able to_ _forgive_ _me for_ _my trickery earlier but I needed you out of the house. This is your first gift but not your last; fear not my dear. I will however ask that you head home before lunch. Do not worry as I have already informed Washington of my plans._  

_Awaiting Your Arrival,_  

_A.Hamilton_  

He smiled and headed to Washington's office checking with him that it was okay. Judging by the soft smile he got in return, everyone knew what he was getting but him. As he drove home his mind wandered over the several things Alexander might have gotten him. When he pulled in Alexander was already waiting outside, in a crisp, clean outfit. He raised his eyebrows when he noticed the tie to the shirt was his favorite color of royal purple. When he got out of the car Alexander walked up to him smiling. He was grabbed by hind arm and practically dragged into their living room. 

He gasped, loudly. Their motely collection of bookshelves was replaced with what looked to be a hand crafted dark wood set. The feet they rested on were ornately carved and the polish was dark and beautiful. He walked to the nearest and ran his hands along it. The finish was smooth and this close he could see the hand made engravings on each shelf. He turned back to Alexander who was watching him warily. He strode over and hugged him as if his life depended on it. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. Oh my God, Alexander how much did these cost?" He babbled. 

Alexander returned the hug and chuckled, "That's unimportant right now. I take it you like them though? You were complaining about our cases not matching so I thought you might like them. I also organized the books by author name." 

He cut Alexander off with a kiss, pouring all his passion and, he could finally admit, love into it. Alexander hummed and grabbed him by his lapels, pulling him to a more even level. He wrapped his arms around Alexander's waist and drew him close. They broke apart for a couple more lazier kisses. He whispered, "I love it, darlin'. I would say I like it more than you but I just don't think that is possible. I love you too much." 

There, he finally said it. Neither of them had said it yet, but he knew he had to today. Alexander gasped and tightened his hold on the lapels. "I love you too," he murmured before kissing him, deeply. They continued to lazily kiss for a few minutes. 

They were interrupted by an alarm on Alexander's phone. He playfully groaned as Alexander pulled away. "Come on, we have somewhere to get to," he said, cryptically. He sighed and followed Alexander to the car, curious as to what was happening. As Alexander drove he confessed, "This next present is a group present, most of us got together to do this. I say this because knowing you, you'd think I bought them by myself." 

They pulled into the theater as the explanation was finished. He looked at Alexander, confused. When he was led to the theatre and they got in with their tickets he was still slightly confused. Only when they sat down did it click. He grabbed Alexander's hand and tightly squeezed it. He saw everyone else get seated by them and was amazed at how close they were to the stage. He remembered several arguments they had had about how expensive theatre was. He knew that they were either watching Shakespeare or a musical; in the excitement of the moment he forgot which and both playbills were out on the theater. He wrapped his arm around Alexander's shoulders and drew him as close as he could. He also scooted as close as he could. He rested his head on Alexander's shoulder, pressing a kiss to it. He went to say something but the stage darkened so he quieted immediately. 

At intermission he knew his original plan for the night was thrown off so, for once, he took a leaf from Alexander's book. His gift was heavy in his pocket as he led Alexander to the balcony. Once there he smiled as he lead an unsuspecting Alexander to a quiet corner. He smiled down at Alexander. 

"Okay, so let me get this all out first," he began. At a nod from Alexander he took a deep breath and continued, "Alexander, everyday with you is a new adventure. When I wake up I'm always excited to see what you have in store for me. I know that no matter what people may say or do you'll always be there, willingly or not. I know that despite us not saying it before today you love me and I love you. I know that we took things slow because of me, and I'd like to think what I'm about to do might make up for that. I can continue to wax but we only have fifteen minutes so I'm keeping this short," he slowly got down on one knee and pulled the box out of his pocket and opened it, showing the simple diamond ring. The ring had a small diamond with emeralds on either side set in white gold, and he was _never_  going to tell Alexander the price. "So," he said, "Will you marry me?" 

Alexander gasped and he was sure he saw tears leak out the corners of his eyes. Alexander frantically nodded and rushed out, "Yes, oh my God Thomas, yes." 

He was pulled into a strong hug, wherein he could feel some tears leak on to his jacket. He chuckled and held Alexander close. Alexander took a step back and gently took the ring from the box, sliding it on. 

"I don't want to know what this costs do I?" Alexander joked.  

He smiled, "You'll never find out either." 

A quick kiss, as intermission was ending, and they headed back in to the theater. They held hands the entire time and found they couldn't look away from one another. They shared sweet kisses and honestly couldn't give a care in the world about what the last half of the play was about. They skipped dinner and opted for a night together instead. 

The next day when Thomas woke up, he smiled down at Alexander who was asleep on his chest. He looked over at his bedside table which now had two photos, one of him and Martha and on of him and Alexander. Sure, he thought, Alexander didn't make his palms sweaty and his mind go blank like Martha did but, that was okay. It was okay because Alexander caused him to smile until his jaw hurt and he always had the right words if Alexander was with him. Yes, he decided, love was love and it was different every time. He planted a kiss on Alexander's forehead and settled down to wait for Alexander to wake up. Today was the beginning of the rest of his life, and it was going to be _wonderful_.


End file.
